


The Scottish Play

by Anna (Anna_64386925)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7333984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_64386925/pseuds/Anna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Actor Arthur is in London spending time with his girlfriend Gwen, teaching a class at RADA, and filming his next blockbuster with his best mate Lance.  Arthur meets Merlin, a RADA student and Lance's ex-boyfriend and decides to get them back together.  The result is, of course, chaos.</p>
<p>In which Merlin and Arthur are Beatrice and Benedick, Gwen is Lady MacBeth, and Gwaine sits back with popcorn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> See the endnotes for mild warnings.

“A really good way to get top marks in your lit lectures is to be a complete shithead to your professors.  Every time they bring up a point about character motivation, say: _‘Why would I do that for anyone, let alone you?’”_  


“And okay, maybe don’t phrase it that way, because there are professors – present company included, of course – who will fail you for being an arse.”

A nervous giggle went around the room.  Arthur caught his TA, Owain, suppressing a smile.  Owain’s colleague kept his head bent over his phone, the high collar of his leather jacket obscuring his face.

“The same applies to acting.  Why on earth would that character do that, whatever _that_ is, for anyone?  I have asked myself that question again and again when I’m researching or rehearsing characters.  And I find that when I have good answers, I’m better able to be true to each character. My reactions are more instinctive, and my emotions sit nakedly on my face and in my movement.  Good acting is responding to imaginary situations with real emotion.”

“But I’m boring you, aren’t I?  This class isn’t a lecture, it’s a workshop, so let’s get started.  Owain, please read out the list of dialogue pairs.  Everybody find your partners and some space on the floor.”

Arthur dragged his podium away from the center of the lecture platform and hopped off the stage.  He took a seat in the semicircle of recently vacated student desks and bent his head towards the TA next to him.

“So, Merlin, how are things going?”

He looked up, startled.  “Fine, Professor Pendragon.  Everyone started dialogue pairs last week, so today should just be more rehearsal.  Did you want Owain and I to observe today, or will we be grading last week’s assignments?”

“Why don’t you observe?” Arthur suggested.  “I could use a few extra pairs of eyes for this.”  There were ten dialogue pairs taking up corners of the lecture hall and a majority of the room’s large central stage. 

Merlin gave Arthur a weak one-sided smile and tucked his phone into his jacket pocket.  He and Owain began circling the room in opposite directions.  Arthur stretched and leaned back in his chair.  He watched Merlin and Owain listen to each dialogue pair and occasionally offer commentary on a gesture or vocal inflection.

Loud buzzing filled the air.

_I’ve got a dream, I’ve got a dream.  I just want to see the floating lanterns gleam!_

“Shit.” 

Arthur’s class burst into laughter as Arthur stood and tugged his phone out of his jeans to shut off the ringer.  “All right, all right, everyone.  I apologize.  The no-mobile rules should apply to professors as well as students.”

Arthur sat back down and quickly tapped out a message.

**In class.  Call you after?**

Lancelot didn’t reply.

“Hey!  Hey, Merlin!  Hang on a moment!” Arthur shouted as he jogged across the quad.  He reached his TA just as Merlin pulled off his headphones and turned around.

“Professor Pendragon,” he greeted him.  “Did you need me?”

“Merlin, please call me Arthur.  We’re not in class now.”  Arthur swept his arm forward.  “May I walk with you?”

“Um, yes.  Sure.”  Merlin shoved the headphones into his pocket along with a balled up, gloved, hand and tucked his chin down. 

“Merlin, I know I’m overstepping my boundaries here, but I’d like to talk to you as a friend, not as a professor.” Arthur said, throwing caution to the winds.  Term was over in a month, and anyway, he was just a temporary adjunct.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked cautiously.  He still kept his hands in his pockets.

“Merlin, I’d like to let you know that whatever happened – and I don’t know what happened – Lance is really sorry and he misses you.  A lot.”

Merlin avoided Arthur’s gaze.  “That’s nice of you to say, Professor Pendragon.”

Arthur ignored his pointed tone and soldiered on.  “He hasn’t told me how he cocked it all up, exactly, but Merlin, trust me when I say that Lance is a good guy.  He’s really hurting right now.  And he needs you-“ Arthur stepped in front of Merlin and squared his shoulders.  “He needs you to forgive him.  Please, Merlin.  He’s one of my best mates and I can’t stand to see him like this.”

Merlin didn’t look at Arthur.  “With all due respect, Professor Pendragon, I don’t think it’s necessary or appropriate for me to discuss my personal life with my superiors here at the university.  If you need any more help with Drama 113, please let me know and I’ll be happy to be of assistance.” 

Merlin sidestepped Arthur and put his headphones back on.  “Until then, please respect my privacy and my position as your TA.”

Arthur watched him walk away, too-thin shoulders hunched over the little phone screen.

_I’ve got a dream, I’ve got a dream, I just want to see the floating lanterns gleam!!_

Arthur grabbed his phone.  “Hey, Lance, what’s up?  I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks.”

“Yeah, sorry man.”  Lance’s voice was gravely with disuse.  “I totally fell off the grid.  I’ve just been trying to catch up on some sleep, you know, recuperate before pickups start and we’re back to the grind.”

“Yeah.  Only a month!  And then it’s just you, me, and Stevie Wonder,” Arthur said in his best husky, seductive voice.

Lance laughed.  “Cut the crap, man.  You have a girlfriend.”

“Yes, and she is divine,” Arthur said.  “Speaking of, I’m late meeting her now.  You want to come by?  Gwen always makes more food than we can eat.  She says she’s competing with my mum for position as ‘Arthur’s favorite chef.’”

“Could you be any more blissed out, man?” Lance teased.  “You’re giving me cavities here.”

“I am one lucky bastard, aren’t I?” Arthur said.  “Life is sweet, my friend.  You should come by.  Catch some of the reflected glory and the bounty of delicious food.”

“As wonderful as Gwen and her cooking are, I have to beg off,” Lance said.  “I’m exhausted and I think I’m just going to stay in tonight.”

Arthur’s tone grew serious.  “Listen, Lance, I’m worried about you.  We all are.  Will you tell me what happened?”

“It – It didn’t work out, man,” Lance’s voice sounded distant.  “Shit happens.  You got to roll with the punches and move on.”

“Come on, Lance,” Arthur said.  “Don’t try and cliché your way out of this.  I am a master at clichés.  I invented the sport of talking yourself out of personal questions (Olympic approval pending).  I am the king.  You can’t take on the king, man.”

Lance laughed again, his tone shaking slightly.  “I’m totally fine, man.  Give Gwen my love.  See you soon.”

He rung off before Arthur could reply.  Arthur sighed and ignored the urge to redial.

Instead, he called Gwen on her cell phone.  “Darling?  It’s me.  How would you feel about turning dinner into an impromptu surprise party?”

“Arthur, are you mad?  We can’t just barge into Lance’s flat.  He has locks.  And rights to privacy. What kind of toff are you?”

“Guinevere, my darling, my love – I don’t give a fuck about Lance’s right to privacy.  He’s been moping for three weeks.  And since he won’t come to us, we’re going to him.”  _And don’t call me a toff_.

“Arthur,” Gwen sighed into the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear.  She brushed her floury hands on her apron and picked up a tomato.  “Dear, come home.  Give Lance some more time.”

“You’re an American.  Aren’t you supposed to be supporting this?  Patriot Act, and all?” Arthur teased.

“Don’t you _dare_ , Arthur Pendragon.” 

Arthur chuckled.  “Okay, I’ll come home.  But then I’m taking your delicious cooking and your gorgeous self to Kensington, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” _click_

Gwen picked up the yeasted dough and smacked it down onto the marble baking board.  There was just a bit more kneading left before the second rising.  Plenty of time to finish dinner before that blond maniac came through.

Her fingers dug into the whole wheat dough.  Arthur was still working out heavily and eating carefully to keep his lean figure for _Romeo and Juliet_.  Thank god that would all be over soon.  Arthur was taking a short break from work before rehearsals for _Much Ado_ began, and then Gwen would _finally_ be able to spend some proper time with her boyfriend.

Still, at least filming in London kept him in town.  Who knew where or for how long Arthur’s next project would take him. He might be gone for weeks or months at a time.  And – she sank her knuckles into the dough – if things kept progressing, Arthur might miss some very important moments in both their lives.

Gwen peeled the dough off the board and massaged in a handful of fresh herbs.  A warm towel was discovered inside the oven, and she left the dough alone for its second rising.

“Gwen,” a deep voice resounded through the kitchen.  Her heart pounded and Gwen looked up, eyes widened and face blanched.  That didn’t sound like Arthur.

“Hello? I’m looking for Gwen Smith, are you here?  Arthur said to just let myself in.”

Gwen cautiously picked up a heavy marble rolling pin and edged her way to the doorway.  If all else failed, she had a pretty decent right hook.

“Gwen!” a toothpaste commercial-worthy smile blinded her and then Gwen was choking on the scent of wet leather and old spice cologne as something with far too much hair lifted her up and nearly strangled her.  “Fantastic to finally meet you!  Arthur has told me so much about you!”

Gwen wrenched herself out of Gwaine Caerleon’s bear hug and smiled weakly.  “Hello!  You must be Gwaine!  Arthur has told me so much about you too!  Although I was surprised to hear you come in.”

“Ha, yeah, sorry if I scared you,” Gwaine gently placed Gwen back on her feet and ran a hand through his hair.  “Elena and I just flew in today.  When Arthur heard, he asked me to come here after I dropped my girls at the hotel.  Something about a surprise party?”

 _Oh, mother-fu–_   Gwen smothered that thought and quickly smiled up at Gwaine.  “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.  Please come in.  May I take your coat?”

“There’s no need,” Gwaine said easily.  “I stayed here with Arthur a few years ago.  I think I still remember where the cupboard is.”

“I can see you’ve been hard at work,” Gwaine added, glancing at Gwen’s apron and the smudge of flour on her cheek.  “Arthur has been making me wickedly jealous for months talking about your talents.  You’re a chef, right?”

“Not really, although Arthur sometimes thinks I’m his personal chef,” Gwen blushed.  “I trained as a metalworker.  My business partner and I make fancy centerpieces for weddings and corporate events and the like.  She bakes and I make the cake pans and sculptures and so on.”

“That’s wonderful!” Gwaine sounded so genuinely enthusiastic that Gwen couldn’t help but grin.  “And I’m glad to see Arthur found a woman who can keep up with him.  God knows the bugger’s hopeless at anything that doesn’t involve an audience – he’s lucky he’s pretty.”

“Is that my name being taken in vain?” Arthur’s musical voice filled the hall.  Gwen half turned towards the rich sound and her shoulders relaxed.

“Gwen, my darling!” Arthur said striding towards her.  “Something smells divine.  Pomodoro sauce?”

“Close,” Gwen smiled.  “Pizza sauce.  I thought it would be nice in this cold weather.”

“Your intuition is, as always, brilliant.”  Arthur bent to kiss the top of her head.  “Coming, dear?”

“In a minute.”

Gwen removed her apron and tossed it on top of the laundry machine.  Then she washed her hands, and carefully applied a coat of the emergency mascara in her purse.  She needed to look presentable for Gwaine and Arthur, didn’t she?

Arthur pulled Gwen into his arms the minute she entered the kitchen.  Her cheeks flushed at such an overt display of affection, but there was a smile on her face as she went about chopping up mozzarella, basil, and tomatoes for tonight’s dinner.  Arthur kept one arm loosely wrapped around her waist and leaned an elbow on the counter as he continued his conversation with Gwaine.

“And you know, Lance really has been in that flat for three weeks by himself.  We should get him out!  Cheer him up!  Show him how much his mates miss him.”

“Absolutely, man,” Gwaine nodded. 

“No, not you too,” Gwen interrupted.  Gwaine looked at her with a raised eyebrow.  Gwen’s cheeks darkened from their usual caramel to a deep crimson.

“What’s wrong, Gwen?” Arthur asked in surprise.

“Lancelot just forgot to return your calls for a few weeks!  He didn’t fall off the face of the planet!  And if he says he wants some time or space, Arthur, then as his friend, you should respect that.” 

Gwen planted a fist on her hip and rounded on Arthur, who put his hands up in mock surrender.  “Maybe Lance hasn’t been moping.  Maybe he’s been auditioning or working on his album or playing the tourist and seeing sights, and that is why he’s been too busy to call you!”

“Yeah, but Gwennie, if he had just been seeing the sites he would have _called me_.  Or at least posted a pic on Instagram or something.  Not a radio silence.”  Arthur gave Gwen a confused look.

“Not _everything_ is about you, Arthur Pendragon!  Honestly!” Gwen crossed her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes.   She threw a dishtowel down on the counter with a huff and began scrubbing furiously, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn down.

“Uhh…” Arthur turned a quizzical eyebrow on Gwaine, but he just shrugged.  “Darling, are you all right?”

“No, I am not all right!” Gwen shouted.  “You are being immature and insensitive and presumptuous and….gah.  I can’t deal with this.  I’m going to have a shower.  Gwaine, please have a lovely time in London, and I hope we see each other again when I’m more rational and less furious with the love of my life.”

She wiped her hands on the towel and walked out of the room.

 “Uhh….” Arthur shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.  “Um.  Right.  Sorry, mate.  She’s not…um…  She’ll come round, I’m sure.”

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck.  “To be honest, I’ve kind of been getting whiplash from her moods lately.  Maybe I should check on her.”

A second door slammed somewhere in the flat and the faint sound of rushing water was audible.  Arthur’s eyes widened and his shoulders drooped.  “Or maybe not.  I’m sure she’ll join us for dinner eventually.”

“Ah, well, nevermind, mate,” Gwaine said easily.  “She seems like a sweet person.  And everything smells delicious.”

“Yeah,” Arthur fiddled with the ring on his thumb.  “I just hope everything’s okay.  She really is it for me, Gwaine.”

Gwaine ran a hand over his mouth to hide a grin as he took in Arthur’s fidgeting and bewildered glances at the door where Gwen had exited.  “I can tell.  She’s something special.”

“Do you suppose she’s right?  About Lance?” Arthur looked away from Gwaine and began absentmindedly unraveling a cuff of his jumper.

 “Well, I know you should stop doing that,” Gwaine said, pointing to the sleeve.  “I bet Gwen won’t appreciate it.”

“And as for Lance,” Gwaine said, going to the fridge and pulling out a couple of beers.  “What exactly did he say?”

“I – “ Arthur shifted uncomfortably.   “So, it’s really not my place to say, but I think Lance broke up with Merlin and he’s really hurting right now.  I tried to talk to Merlin about it – “

“Excuse me?” Gwaine interrupted.  “Sorry, I don’t follow.  Who is Merlynn?  How do you know her?”

“Merlin is Lance’s _boy_ friend,” Arthur stressed, rocking back on his heels in surprise.  “They’ve been together for…at least a year, now.”

“Oh,” Gwaine said, his hand pausing in its search for a bottle opener.  “And you called Lance’s ex-boyfriend in France to talk to him about their break-up?”

“No, Merlin’s British.  Lancelot moved to London to be closer to him six months ago,” Arthur explained.  “Merlin’s doing his graduate course at RADA right now.”

“Impressive,” Gwaine whistled.

“He’s also my TA,” Arthur added.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow.  “Oh.  And you – questioned him about his boyfriend?”

“I didn’t _question_ him” Arthur said, irritated, scuffing his foot against a lower cabinet.  “I just _talked_ to him.  After class.”

“Mate, I don’t mean to judge,” Gwaine said as he closed the drawer he had been looking through and opened another.  “But that kind of seems out of line to me.”

Arthur swallowed and he ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends of it.  “Yeah I might have fucked up there.”

Gwaine bit his lips in a poor attempt to conceal his smile.  “Did you get reamed out?”

“That’s a mild way of putting it.”  Arthur dropped his hands to his sides and leaned back against the counter.  “I just want to help them.”

 “You can’t always help, mate.” Gwaine finished unsuccessfully searching through his third drawer and picked up the beer bottle.

  Arthur winced.  Thank god Gwen was still in the shower. 

“This is something they’ve got to work out on their own.” Gwaine continued, picking up Arthur’s bottle as well.  “Remember when Elena and I broke up, years ago?”

“Yeah,” Arthur resumed toying with the cuff of his sweater.

“You tried for weeks to get us to talk to each other, remember?” Gwaine smacked both bottles against the side of the granite countertop and quickly popped the lids off them.  Arthur made a mental note to check for marks in the hard stone after Gwen went to bed.  “But we weren’t into it.  It’s something that just has to come with time.  Look, we figured it out eventually, right?”

“Yeah,” Arthur gave him a shit-eating grin.  “I’d say.  Two kids and half a dozen films later.”

Gwaine let out a roar of laughter.  “See?  If it’s meant to be, it will be.  You’re a good friend, Arthur, but you’ve got to stop worrying.”

Arthur smiled weakly.

“Now,” Gwaine said.  “Why don’t you see if you can get the love of your life to join us for dinner?  I’m starving.”

“Yeah, okay,” Arthur left the kitchen door swinging on its hinge as he headed for the master bedroom.  “Gwen?”

A high pitched shriek filled the air.

“Gwen?!?” Arthur ran towards the bathroom.  Steam was billowing out from under the door, but the latch was tightly shut.  “Gwen?!?  Let me in!”  He rattled the knob.

Arthur could hear Gwen sobbing quietly on the other side of the door.  “Sweetheart?  Gwen, it’s me, it’s Arthur.  Darling please let me in.”

Stuttered sobs drifted out from under the bathroom door.  “Gwen?  Darling, please, let me make sure you’re all right.”

A low squeak saw the door unlatch, and Arthur burst into the small bathroom to find Gwen, soaked and naked, huddled up on the floor clenching her knees. 

“Arthur,” Gwen looked up at him with huge, swollen eyes.  “Arthur, I’m so sorry.”

Arthur took in the crimson stains streaked across the floor of the shower and Gwen’s shuddered, sobbed breaths and felt his stomach flip over.

“No, Darling,” he swallowed, dropped to his knees beside Gwen, and gathered her into his arms.  “No, don’t ever apologize to me.  Not for this.”

Gwen bit back another sob, and Arthur felt her burrow deeper into his arms.  He tucked his face into her curly hair and tried to breathe around the lump in his throat.

“I love you,” he murmured into her hair.  “I love you, I love you so much, I love you…”

“Arthur?” Gwaine stood in the door way, beer still clenched in his hand.  Arthur looked up.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Gwaine asked softly.  Gwen didn’t look up from her nest in Arthur’s embrace.

Arthur nodded mutely.

Gwaine gave Arthur a sympathetic look and gently clapped one hand on the shoulder not supporting Gwen.  He reached over to shut off the shower.  The bathroom seemed eerily silent without the lukewarm spray misting Arthur and Gwen.

Arthur bit his tongue and turned his face into Gwen’s riotous curls once again.   One of Gwen’s small hands found his, and Arthur felt himself relax minutely as Gwen, still shuddering, began tracing tiny circles on the back of Arthur’s hand.


	2. Chapter 2

_18 months earlier_

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Arthur fingered his rocks glass and ran a thumb along the rim.  “Sure.”

A girl slid onto the stool beside him.  She braced one heel on the footrest, and leaned an elbow on the bar.  The stiletto dangling from her toe swung dangerously close to Arthur’s shin. ~~~~

“So what’s up, buttercup?”  Her hand brushed a long ringlet of dark hair behind one ear.  Arthur noticed at least a half dozen multicolored rings on her fingers.

“S’nothing,” he mumbled, resting his forehead against the arm propped on the bar.  He was slurring.  Scotch could do that to a man.

“You sure?”  Her tone was soft.  Arthur closed his eyes against the small smile playing on her lips.  “You seem a little out of it.”

“Yeah,” he leaned forward, and scrubbed a thumb over bloodshot eyes.  “I’m just tired.  I just got off a plane – was flying for almost thirty hours.”

“So you got off a plane and came straight to a bar?”

Arthur frowned and looked up; his eyes tightened at the corners.  The girl’s coral-painted cheeks flamed.

“Sorry, buttercup.  What are you drinking?”

“Scotch and soda.”

The girl smiled and waved at the bartender, displaying a set of perfect teeth in a gleaming shade of too-white.  Disney-princess dark eyes and cheek dimples narrowly saved the grin from looking predatory.  Arthur noticed fire-engine red nails that were too long to be real.

He sat up straight, and squarely faced the woman.  “So, which tabloid do you work for?”

“Excuse me?” That fake smile was still plastered to her face.

“Don’t play games with me.  You sat down next to me, offered to buy me a drink…it’s 1:15 A.M. on a Sunday night at a sleepy bar in the middle of Newark, you didn’t come here by chance.  Who sent you, and which editor is my publicist going to bribe to keep my name out of the press?”

“Your publicist bribes editors?”

“Among other things.”  Arthur looked at her blearily.  “Listen, you had a good try, but I’m done.  Go and find your story somewhere else.  Try a bar in Manhattan, instead of running all the way to New Jersey in a pathetic bid for a scoop.”  Maybe he wasn’t slurring, after all.

“Look,” the woman said, picking up her red bag and putting her heels back on properly.  “I came here because I was looking for a fun night out with girlfriends I haven’t seen since high school.  And I saw you at the bar, and you looked sad, and all my friends had to leave early anyway because they have actual 9-5 jobs to show up for tomorrow.  So I thought I would buy you a drink.”

“I’m not a reporter,” she continued, picking up her keys.  “I’m just a girl from New Jersey who is trying to be nice.  And I have a huge crush on Lowell Tracey, so there’s that.”

Arthur almost smiled.

“So,” she said, standing up and looking at Arthur.  The top of her head didn’t even level with his shoulder. 

“It was nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand, “And I hope I see you again someday.  But only if don’t act like a drunk, judgmental jerk next time.”

 She lifted his hand off the bar, gave it a forceful shake, and then turned, walking out the door.

“Wait,” Arthur called, jumping up suddenly.  Perhaps that last scotch was affecting his impulse control.

“Yes?” The girl turned back and raised an eyebrow.

He hesitated.  “Will you please stay?”

“Too late, buttercup.”  She turned her back and continued towards the exit.

“Do you want a ride?”

She stopped walking, and gave a derisive snort.  “You are way too drunk to get behind the wheel of any vehicle.  I’d be surprised if the bartender hasn’t taken your keys yet.”

“No, I mean, in my car,” he said.  “With my driver.”

Her eyes widened.  “You brought your _driver_ to a dive bar like this?  Even for a celebrity, that’s a bit much.”

“Well, I didn’t have any other way of getting here,” Arthur shrugged.  “So, would you like a ride?  I promise I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“Your driver will take me wherever I want to go,” she corrected.  She caught a full, rose-glazed lip between her teeth and lowered her eyes, looking thoughtful.  “Okay,” she said finally.  “Let’s go.”

Arthur threw a twenty on the counter and picked up his coat.  “Follow me.”

The girl held open the door for him, and he smiled at her and walked out into the night.

 “Here we are,” Arthur said, waving Leon aside and ushering the girl into the car. 

 “Where to, Ms.—” Arthur paused.

“Umm…” Arthur scratched his temple uncomfortably.  He couldn’t believe he had forgotten to ask her name.

She laughed.  “Just call me Gwen.”

“Gwen.  Like Gwendolyn?”

“No, it’s actually Guinevere.”

Arthur blinked.  “Really?”

“My mother is a Celtic historian and a romance novelist.  She’s a big fan.”

 “Wow.”  Arthur hesitated. 

“It could have been worse.  I was almost named Nimueh.”

“Ah.  Well, at least that’s a powerful name.  And our names match.”

Gwen gave him a small smile and rested her temple against the window. 

“Well, all right, Gwen, then.  What was a nice girl like you doing in a bar like that?”

Gwen let out a peal of laughter.  It could have been charming, but the high pitch wasn’t doing his ears any favors.  “You’re actually using pickup lines now?  You do realize you already got me out of the bar and in your vehicle?”

“Yes, but I really do want to know.  I’m pretty sure that you’re not a reporter,” he smiled, “but you still seemed a little out of place there.”

“I used to go to Puzzles all the time when I was teen.  It was enough of a dive to make me feel like I was rebelling, and it wasn’t so seedy that I actually had to fear for my life.”

“Nice.  So you grew up around here, then?” Arthur shifted his weight forward.

“Sort of,” Gwen lifted her head off the window and sat back.  “So, what’s Arthur Pendragon doing at a dive bar in New Jersey anyway?”

“I am…visiting New York,” Arthur tapered off lamely.  “I actually can’t tell you why I’m here.”

“Oooh,” Gwen dug her elbows into her knees and leaned forward.  “Super-secret Sherlock sortie?”

“How can you use a tongue-twister like that after a night of drinking?” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I’m still struggling with proper sentence structure and diction.”

“But you use words like ‘diction’ when you’re so drunk you can’t recognize a handshake when it’s offered to you,” Gwen pointed out.

“That was different,” Arthur ran a hand through his hair.  “You caught me off guard.  Women don’t usually call me a ‘drunk, judgmental jerk’.  My politics are actually quite liberal.”

“I know,” Gwen edged a corner of her thumbnail into her mouth. 

Arthur gave her an odd look.

“What?”

“You’re wearing fake nails so long I could dig bulbs with them, and you’re chewing your nails.  You really are the most contradictory woman.”

“Damn,” Gwen took the nail out of her mouth.  “It’s a nervous habit.  I’ve got to stop.”

“Why wear the fake nails if you’re just going to destroy them?”

“My sister-in-law convinced me that if I got fake nails put on, I would be more aware of my nails and stop biting them.”

“Ah.  Did your sister-in-law do your make-up, too?”

Gwen blushed.  “No, my niece did.  And she did a very good job for a six year old.”

“You’re a very devoted Aunt, to wear her handiwork all night.”

Gwen shrugged.  “It’s just Puzzles.  You were probably the only person who noticed what I looked like all night.”

Arthur’s forehead wrinkled.  “That can’t be true.  You’re wearing violet eyeshadow, for god’s sake.”

Gwen’s cheeks went from strawberry to vermillion. 

“When we left, you and I were the only people under the age of sixty.  And half the drinkers were nearly catatonic.”

“Also,” Gwen continued, twisting her fingers in her lap, “you still haven’t explained what you’re doing here.”

“I told you,” Arthur said, rubbing one hand on his knee.  “I can’t say.  Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gwen said.  “But –”

“Miss?” Leon interrupted from the driver’s seat.  “Where would you like to go?”

“Oh,” Gwen looked up from her lap.  “Sorry, I guess I didn’t say.  Um…”

Arthur tried to ignore the way she was sucking in that full lower lip.

“Are you hungry?” Gwen asked him suddenly.

“Yes,” Arthur said immediately.  “I’m supposed to eat another meal tonight for this weight-building regime, but it can’t be – “

“Oh!” Gwen exclaimed, “Would a cheeseburger be okay?  You can get one wrapped in lettuce, they’re divine.”

“Sure,” Arthur said, looking confused.  “Where would you like to go to get this – cheeseburger lettuce wrap?”

“Cheeburger,” Gwen gave Leon the address and looked at Arthur.  Her eyes were shining.  “You’ll love it, I promise.”

“Okay,” Arthur looked bemused.  “Did you just say Cheeseburger?”

“No, it’s _Chee_ burger.  Just trust me.”

“What more do you want?” Arthur asked, spreading his hands.  “You’re already in my car, after all.”

“True,” Gwen giggled and then bit her lip.  “Sorry.  Alcohol makes me extra high-pitched.”

“It’s fine.”

“So, what are you building weight for?” Gwen leaned forward again, hands folded on her knees.

“I can’t say, sorry.  Sherlock is a lot leaner than this new character I’m playing, so I’m building muscle and eating like a grizzly bear.”

“Sashimi.  Got it.”  Gwen saluted, and then slapped her hand to her forehead.  “Gosh, sorry.  I’m so out of it right now.”

“It’s okay,” Arthur said.

“So, how has your life been?  How was your flight?” Gwen asked, absent mindedly putting another fingernail into her mouth.

Arthur gently moved her hand to her lap.  “It was bloody awful, thank you for asking.”

“Oh,” Gwen looked at him with big-eyed sympathy.  “What happened?”

“I got dumped.”  Arthur looked horrified.  “Oh, god, please forget I mentioned that!  I don’t know what’s wrong with me today—“

“It’s okay, the cheeseburger will help soak up some of the alcohol,” Gwen said.  “And I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  She reached towards him, then seemed to think better of it and tucked her hand beneath her thigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and slumped in his seat.  “Suffice to say that I’m not up to par.”

“I don’t know what that means.  You’re Arthur Pendragon.  Short of violence or some other heinous abuse, I don’t think you could be subpar.”

“I would never use violence!” Arthur looked horrified.  “You think I’m violent?”

“No!  No, no, no, no, no!  Just – you can’t be subpar.  Nothing could make you below par except a deep dark secret that no one knows about.”

“I don’t – “ Arthur shook his head.  

“Sorry.  Why do you think you’re not up to par?”

“I just – “ Arthur bit his lip.  “Nevermind.  Forget I said anything.”

Gwen blinked and looked down at her lap.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything negative about you or your relationships.  Sometimes I talk and I don’t realize what’s coming out of my mouth.  It’s like I was born without a social filter.  Especially one compatible with alcohol.”

“It’s okay,” Arthur said, wiping his sweaty palms on his knees.   “It’s fine.  Sorry if I overreacted.”

Gwen glanced up from under her eyelashes.  “It’s okay.”

Arthur looked out the window, praying for the car to stop soon. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re brilliant.”

Arthur laughed and kept staring out the window.  “You don’t even know me.”

“You called Nimueh a ‘powerful name’, so you’ve probably read either the Morte d’Arthur or Mists of Avalon, likely both.  You use words like ‘diction’ when you’re drunk.  And you offered to give a complete stranger a ride home from a seedy bar at 1:30 in the morning.  I’d call well-read, intelligent, and compassionate a winning trifecta.”

Arthur swallowed.  “Well, thanks.  I’m sorry to say that you’re in the minority there, but it’s very sweet of you.”

 “They’re not just words of comfort,” Gwen sat forward and let her hand hover near Arthur’s arm.  “It’s the truth, Arthur.  Please don’t brush me off as a stranger.  I wouldn’t have said those things if they weren’t true.”

Arthur smiled and tucked his hand into his coat pocket.

“Here we are,” Gwen said, looking out her window happily.  “Ready?”

Arthur pushed open the door.

“Ladies first.”

\--

_Present Day_

“You okay?” Gwaine squeezed past Arthur to get to a seat, ignoring the couch on the other side of the hospital’s private waiting room.  He was holding two cans of fizzy drink with the tabs already popped.

“No.” Arthur sighed and put his head in his hands. 

Gwaine smiled sadly and held one of the open cans out to Arthur.

“I was just thinking about the night I met Guinevere,” Arthur said gruffly, rubbing one palm against his eyes.  “Did you know she called me a ‘drunk, judgmental jerk’?”

“Sounds accurate,” Gwaine chuckled.  Arthur’s lips quirked, and he took the drink.

“She had the measure of me the minute we met,” Arthur said sadly, looking down at the drink and toying with the tab.

“She’s good for you,” Gwaine said softly.  Arthur nodded, but didn’t look up.

“I didn’t even know she was pregnant, Gwaine,” whispered Arthur, his voice uncharacteristically fragile.  Gwaine sighed and slung his arm along the back of Arthur’s chair.

“She wasn’t showing.  She might not have known herself, Arthur,” Gwaine said.  “It must have been very early.”

“She knew.  She kept saying she was sorry,” Arthur said bitterly.  “As if she should have had to apologize to me.”

“Arthur…” Gwaine rubbed his friend’s shoulder, but Arthur didn’t lean into the touch.

“Arthur, she might have suspected, but this is a tricky business.  I’m sure she would have told you soon.”

“I hope,” Arthur said.  “I don’t want to be the kind of man who doesn’t know the mother of his children, Gwaine.”  Arthur closed his eyes against the suspicious redness there.

Gwaine ignored the Uther-shaped elephant in the room and kept patting Arthur’s shoulder.  “You won’t be.”

“Mr. Pendragon?  I’m Dr. Gaius.” Arthur jumped up as a white-coated man with large spectacles entered the private room.

“Ms. Smith is asking for you,” the doctor began.  Arthur tried to move past him immediately, but a hand on his shoulder restrained him.

“Before you see her,” the doctor began, “We need to discuss a few things.  Please take a seat next to your friend.”

Arthur sank into the seat next to Gwaine with ill grace.  Gwaine put his arm back across the top of Arthur’s chair.

Dr. Gaius shut the door of the room and pulled a chair up in front of them.  He steepled his fingers and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Ms. Smith is in stable condition.  Unfortunately, the fetus is very weak.  There are a number of things to consider before we decide how to proceed –“

“Wait, my daughter’s alive?” Arthur interrupted, his eyes going wide.

“It’s too early to determine gender –“

“The baby’s okay?” Arthur’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.  He turned to Gwaine elatedly.  “They’re both okay!”

“Arthur,” Gwaine said gently.  “Let’s hear what the doctor has to say.”

The white-haired gentleman smiled gratefully at Gwaine before addressing Arthur once again.  “Mr. Pendragon, I’m sorry to tell you that the fetus shows signs of having thalassemia major.”  The doctor said this with a gravitas that Arthur regarded as totally inappropriate for the situation. 

“What does that mean?” Arthur asked.

“It’s a genetic disorder, one that is fairly common in many parts of the world.”

“So…I…a genetic disorder, so that means it’s my fault?”

“In all likelihood, both of you are carriers, Mr. Pendragon,” the doctor said gently.  “Genetics are not a personal failing.  They simply are.  And there is no reason to think the two of you will not be able to have healthy children someday.”

“Given the complications this early in Ms. Smith’s pregnancy and the child’s genetic condition, it is very unlikely that both mother and child could safely make it past a full term birth.  I’m also sorry to say that infant mortality rates for children with thalassemia are very high.”  Dr. Gaius explained all this as gently as he could.  Arthur hit his head against the wall with a soft thud and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.

 “So what do we do now?” Arthur asked, biting his tongue to keep from bursting into tears. 

“Ms. Smith has been advised to consider a D&C.  That will help ensure her continued health.  She’ll be fine in a few days,” the doctor said.

“And…the D&C.  That kills the pregnancy?” Arthur said thickly.

The doctor looked at him with sad eyes.  “Yes.”

The doctor stood up, his white lab coat swishing past his knees.  “Here is my card, and the card of the hospital’s genetic counselor,” the doctor said.  “She’ll be able to answer any questions you might have.”

Arthur swallowed and nodded.  “Thank you.”

Gwaine cleared his throat and spoke up.  “Which room is Guinevere in, doctor?”

“Ah, right.” The doctor turned and pointed towards the swinging double doors at one end of the waiting room.  “Go through those doors, make a right, and you’ll find yourself in the green station.  Ms. Smith is in Green Room 4.”

Arthur stood up numbly and followed Gwaine out the door of the room.

\--

“Arthur?  Hey, Arthur!” Lance called from across the quad.

Arthur turned his head towards the noise, lifting a hand to shield himself from the fading afternoon sunlight.  His last class had run longer than expected.

“Oh, hey Lance,” Arthur said, looking up at his friend and smiling.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” Lance said, lifting an arm to give Arthur a sideways hug.  “How are you?  And Gwen?  Gwaine came to see me a few days ago.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, trying to smile.  “We’re doing okay.  Gwen’s mostly resting, you know.  Tired.”

“She’ll be okay, though?” Lance looked sincerely concerned.

“She’ll be fine,” Arthur assured him.  “Physically, anyway, the doctors say she’s okay.”

Lance gave Arthur a searching look and clapped a hand on his shoulder.  “You ready for the Scottish Play?”

“Wouldn’t miss it!”

Lance stiffened, and Arthur looked over his shoulder.

“Hey Merlin!” Lance called.

Merlin stopped walking and looked around, pulling his headphones out of his ears.

“Merlin!” Lance called again, louder this time.  Merlin turned.

“Oh, hey Lance,” Merlin immediately stiffened.  “What a coincidence seeing you here.”

“Yeah, just came to check on my buddy Arthur.”  Lance swung an arm around Arthur’s neck a little too tightly.

“Good for you.” Merlin nodded and took a step away.

“I heard you’re his TA,” Lance called after Merlin’s back.  Merlin stopped and turned around.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” There was an ugly grimace on Lance’s face.  Arthur tried to escape from under his arm, but Lance wasn’t budging.

“He’s got a _girlfriend_ too,” Lance continued, “so I don’t think he’ll be open to fucking you.  Sorry about that, Sweetheart, maybe next time.”

Merlin paled.  He took a couple of steps back and stumbled, falling spread-eagled onto the grass.

“Merlin!” Arthur wrenched out of Lance’s grip and rushed over.  He picked up Merlin’s books as the latter rubbed his head and sat up, a dazed look on his face.

“Let me see.” Arthur tilted Merlin’s face up and peered into his eyes.  “I think your eyes are the same size…Merlin, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Merlin was quiet for a moment.

“Merlin?  Fingers!  Tell me how many!”

“Four,” Merlin said quietly.  Arthur glanced at his hand to confirm and Merlin promptly keeled over and vomited on the grass.

“Merlin!  Merlin!?!”

Arthur scooped up the unconscious student and started walking towards student health.

“Arthur!  Hey, Arthur!” Lance ran up to the pair of them and held out his arms for Merlin.

“I’m so sorry.  I never meant to make him trip,” Lance said apologetically.

“Fuck off, Lance,” Arthur said, suddenly tired to the bone.  “Go home.”

“Arthur-“

“Lance, I love you, but you can be the most self-indulgent bastard at times.  Now leave.  I will deal with this, and I’ll let you know if Merlin decides to press charges or something.”

They had reached the door to the student health clinic.  Lance stopped walking, his arms still stretched out towards Merlin.  “Okay.  You’ll let me know how he is?”

“Go home, Lance.  I’ll call you later.”  Arthur shouldered his way through the entrance and carefully maneuvered Merlin inside as the doors swung shut behind him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for a slightly-graphic description of a miscarriage.
> 
> .  
> .  
> Thanks for reading! Feedback (anything at all, really) is wildly appreciated.


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